Traveling Soldier
by Nyahnyan
Summary: Bakura's going to war, but has nobody to write to. He meets a young girl in a cafe that he asks if he can write to. Character death! And Femmie Ryou! R/B


**AN: Ok, so i made Ryou a girl in this fic, but it made writting it a whole lot easier, so don't kill me! Oh, and there is character death! (I'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry!) **

**Disclaimer: I don't own YGO, or the song Traveling Soldier by the Dixie Chicks.**

* * *

Bakura was two days past eighteen. He was wearing his green army gear, waiting for the bus to take him to the airport. He spied a small café just across the street, and looked down at his watch. The bus wouldn't be there for a few hours, and sitting in the café would be better than sitting outside the whole time. He stood and crossed the street over to the small building.

Once inside he found an empty booth to site in. It was in a corner far from everyone else in the café. A young girl, no older than 16, came over to the table to take his order.

"What will you be having today, sir?" She had her long, white hair tied up in a blue bow.

Bakura gave her his order, and the girl left with a cute little twirl.

"Here you are, sir." The girl had returned with Bakura's order, and placed the food in front of him. She gave him a smile and was just about to leave but stopped when Bakura spoke to her.

"Would you mind sitting down for a while, and talking to me?" He asked. "I'm feeling a little low."

The girl thought for a moment. "I'll be off in an hour and I know where we could go."

"Thank you, uh…. What's you're name?"

"Ryou. My name's Ryou." She smiled at Bakura again, and left to go check on other tables.

Once Ryou was off of work, Bakura fallowed her down to the pier where they sat and talked.

"I bet you got a boyfriend, but I don't care. I got no one to send a letter to. Would you mind if I sent one back here to you?" Bakura asked, staring down at the clear water.

"No one? There's got to be someone in your family for you to send a letter to." Ryou insisted.

"Nope. My parents are dead as well as my sister. Everyone else in my family just abandoned me." Bakura told Ryou. It was true. After his parents died, all of his other family members forgot about him.

Ryou hugged Bakura. "I'm so sorry that happened."

Bakura shook his head and pulled away from Ryou. "So can I send letters back here to you?"

"Yes, of course you can." She wrote down her address and gave it to Bakura.

He studied it, then put it in his pocket. Looking at his watch again, he found that the bus would be there in under 10 minutes. "I have to get going. The bus will be here soon."

"Would you mind me walking you back to the bus stop?" Ryou asked, standing up from where she had been sitting.

"Not at all." Bakura grinned and grabbed Ryou's small hand. She giggled softly, and they headed back to the bus stop.

A few dayss passed and Ryou had told everyone about Bakura. She told them she was never going to hold the hand of another guy, and that he was the one.

"You're too young for him, Ry." Her best friend, Malik, told her. "Waiting for the love of a traveling soldier is not the best. There's plenty of other guys out there for you."

"But, Mali, Bakura's and my love will never end. Even if I have to wait for the soldier to come back again. Never more to be alone when the letter says a soldier's coming home." "You're sure about this Ry? You know that he could…. You know?"

"Yes, I know. But I'm willing to take those chances." And with that, Ryou turned and left the small café.

The letters came from and army camp in California, and then in Vietnam. He told her how things were going, but mostly he told her of his heart. It might be love and all of the things he was so scared of.

He wrote; '_When it's getting kinda rough over here, I think of that day sitting down at the per. And I close my eyes and see your pretty smile. Don't worry but I won't be able to write for awhile.'_

One Friday night at a football game the Lord's Prayer was said and the anthem sang, a man said, "Folks, would you bow your heads for the list of local Vietnam dead."

Crying all alone under the stands was a piccolo player and a marching band. One name was read but nobody really cared. Except a pretty little girl with a bow in her hair.


End file.
